


A Dutiful Post Office Worker

by samworth



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen, Short Story Speed Writing Challenge 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25045018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samworth/pseuds/samworth
Summary: Sergeant Carter would make a fine post office worker. He was punctual, reliable and trustworthy. Only his lack of sense of direction could be a problem. But what was a mistaken town after encountering Marya and Tiger? If Carter would just return before Schultz shot them all, Hogan would be happy.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13





	A Dutiful Post Office Worker

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the SSSW 2020. Crossposted.

"Where is Klink's paranoia when you need it?" Hogan grumbled as he read over London's orders again. This time they had come by plane with an additional hint by radio. "Apparently, we need him to double the guards to get a full night of sleep around here," Hogan murmured.

Kinch snorted, pointing to his radio, still warm and making soft rumbling noises. "Shall I go back and ask London a third time if they -"

Hogan waved dismissively. "No, but sometimes I ask myself if they have forgotten over there that we are in a POW camp and not in the post office." He stared at the brown envelope in his hand. "What are we supposed to get for this?"

"The designs of their newest rocket," Kinch replied while LeBeau returned from having changed back into his uniform. His face was still smeared with black. Tonight, it had been LeBeau's job to go outside retrieving London's package.

Rocket designs were always good reason for the risk associated with this mission. But still, Hogan bristled at the need to send one of his men outside in broad daylight. Without another word, Hogan turned on his heels and marched back to the ladder. If they had to do the job, he knew who would be volunteering.

In the main room, Newkirk calmly dealt his cards and took a puff of his smoke while he and Carter were waiting at the table. Judging by the heavy smoke in the air, Newkirk had been doing this since Hogan, LeBeau and Kinch had gone downstairs. "We have a new mission," Hogan said and stopped behind Carter, putting his hands on his shoulders. "Carter? Thank you for volunteering. Tomorrow morning, after roll call, you'll go to Hammelburg and then Altdorf near Nuremberg by train to deliver a small package to this address." Hogan held up a small piece of paper in front of Carter's face.

"Me? But I know nothing about trains except how to blow them up and -"

"He probably ends up in Paris," Newkirk snickered and LeBeau smiled in agreement. Then LeBeau opened his mouth, most likely to give Carter a list of women he should visit if he ends up in Paris.

Hogan raised his hand and an eyebrow in warning. Wisely, LeBeau snapped his mouth shut again. "You'll do fine," the colonel told Carter. "Every four hours a train is leaving Hammelburg for Nuremberg, you can't miss it. It's not far and the ticket seller won't send you to Paris, and I need somebody who is not getting into the next Hofbrau," Hogan said and send Newkirk a significant glare, "and also not making any other detours." This time his glare hit LeBeau who just shrugged and murmured something about needing fresh food. "Straight to the address and back; then you can be back by evening roll call. It's easy as pie."

The other inhabitants of barracks two all stared at Hogan and Carter with either an expression of envy for getting out or guilt for having done any of the listed misdeeds and therefore having been disqualified. They all should be worried about being outside in the daylight but the desire for a few hours of freedom was apparently stronger.

Carter accepted the small envelope with its sharp edges and read the address. "Stadtallee, Haus Nr. 7," he read aloud.

"You have to say, 'with greetings from Field Marshall Heinrich' and as the response you have to get 'please return the greetings from his friend Nobody'," Hogan went on with his explanation.

"You've got it, boy! I mean, sir!" Then Carter hesitated. "But what about the roll calls I'm going to miss by going out during the day?"

Hogan grinned at the rest of his men. "LeBeau and Newkirk are going to be in charge of this seeing as they have come up with an entertaining list of excuses for their own various adventures." Smirking, Hogan continued. "Why not put this creativity into good use?" Newkirk and LeBeau brightened missing completely that this wasn't meant as a reward. It should have worried Hogan more than it did.

* * *

Carter ambled along the street. His civilian clothes chafed on his skin as he hadn't worn them since wash day. But the smell soapy air around his nose made up for this discomfort. The sun warmed his face while he carefully tried to look German to blend it. Old men and women hurried along, all busy trying to keep up with the demands of life. Carter took the time to admire the careful decorated store windows.

As he finally reached the small train station, Carter knew he had to hurry, or he wouldn't get the early train. But as he rounded the corner, his steps faltered, and he froze. The whole platform was flooded by SS guards in their black uniforms carrying machine guns.

Breaking a sweat, Carter's heart started to race in his chest. Before he could duck away, one of the guards had seen him. Now he had to move forward or his behavior could be classified as suspicious. Trying not to panic, Carter straightened his shoulders and aimed for the small office.

"Guten Tag, a ticket to Altdorf, please."

Startled, the old man behind the counter jerked before he gave Carter a tentative smile. "Guten Tag, Altdorf, right?" He asked and on Carter's nod, he asked for the required fee.

"When does the train leave?" Carter asked to make conversation as he paid for his train ticket.

" **Missed it by that much** ," the man said and held up his hand, his ring finger and thumb barely an inch apart. Both index finger and middle finger were missing from his hand. A simple reason for his job at the ticket desk and explanation why he hadn't been drafted.

"And the next one?" Carter asked and glanced above his left shoulder to the black uniforms.

"Leaves in four hours," the old man said. Lowering his voice, he continued, "But don't worry, the SS is just waiting for the train from Berlin. Then they'll disappear again and stop soiling my station." For a short moment, both men looked at each other. Horrified at what he had just said, the old man looked in fear to Carter who offered him a reassuring smile. "I hear nothing".

The colonel had warned him not to draw unwanted attention, and so he trudged over to the waiting bench as far away as possible from the SS men. Carter sat down, but he couldn't relax and bounced his legs. Leaning forward, he tried to hide his jittery movements. Every glance from the SS in his direction sent shock waves of despair down his spine. He expected to be recognized or arrested any minute now.

Finally, the train from Berlin arrived. The sounds of its brakes provided a welcome distraction from the painful silence stemming from the presence of the SS.

Hammelburg was a small station, therefore not a lot of people left the train. Carter wondered who would be the poor fellow that warranted such a welcome party from the SS. The first man getting off the train was a soldier with an arm in a sling. None of the SS guards reacted, instead they started to board the train. Following the injured soldier, a woman with a buggy left the train. The woman wore a long dark green coat and everything about her seemed exclusive and expensive.

Carter rubbed his sweaty palms across his legs. Something about the woman seemed familiar. Suddenly, recognition flooded him. Swallowing hard, he turned his head away hoping to hide his face. But it was too late.

"Darling," Marya called across the whole platform in his direction. "We're here!"

In despair Carter glanced over his shoulder, hoping that one of her generals or another important person stood behind him but only emptiness greeted him.

"Darling," Marya called out again and waved. Then she pushed the stroller in his direction.

Now would be a good time for the ground to open up and swallow him.

* * *

Hogan smoked the cigar he had weaseled from Klink as he entered barracks two and froze. For a moment, he feared that either the repetitive dull conversations with Klink had damaged his brain or the smoke from his cigar had tarnished his eyes. Scratching his head, the scene in front of him didn't change. Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk were sitting at the table crafting - with paper, glue, pens and scissors. "What are you doing?" Hogan finally asked.

"We're creating a game," Newkirk replied without looking up.

"Oui, mon colonel, a really useful game."

Hogan raised an eyebrow and regarded Kinch, the most sensible one of the bunch and the only who had bothered to look up. "We 're collecting ideas about how to explain non-attendance at roll call, so we are going to be prepared in case we need it to cover for Carter more than once," Kinch explained.

Slowly, Hogan nodded. "Preparation sounds good," he said and wet his lips, "but where does a game fit in?"

"Blimey," Newkirk muttered and put his bleeding finger into his mouth. Hogan had a feeling that the curse was more about officers than about a self inflected wound. With a bright smirk, Newkirk explained, "It's a game or better a challenge. We pick a card and then work with whatever it is saying."

Already feeling the headache coming, Hogan picked up one of the cards. His men had worked really hard to create a design similar to playing cards but the content worried the colonel. "Abducted by an alien?" he read out loud.

"That was one of mine," LeBeau said and pride colored his words.

"And you are actually expecting me to use these?"

"We thought that would keep us all on our toes, so we would focus," Kinch revealed. "Always being ready for anything because we know just what kind of challenge could come up."

Hogan shook his head. A card game of explanation why they were one man short at roll call. A few of his men had been too long in this camp. Entirely too long.

* * *

"Darling!" Marya pulled Carter into a tight embrace. She wore so much perfume the sweetness made Carter sick. "I have missed you so much!" She said loud enough for the whole platform to hear. "I knew that my darling Hogan would help me out but I never expected that he would actually send an escort," she continued in a whisper.

"Marya," Carter said and freed himself from her arms. "I'm not here to help you. I have to take the next train."

"Really?" Marya pulled back and threw her hand across her opened mouth. "That's terrible, darling. But don't worry, now I'm here, and we'll fix this." She pulled Carter closer again. Still smiling, she whispered, "Do you see all these nice SS men? They're here to arrest a Russian spy who has stolen an important microfilm." Straightening up, she pushed Carter down to look at the baby. A baby that slept silently through all the noise. Just where did Marya get a baby from?

"Now, personally, I have no idea who could be such a Russian spy or who would do something like that," she continued and rocked the stroller. "But I do know who you are and if they start to ask terrible questions, I have no other choice but to tell them where they'll find Papa Bear."

Carter's gaze shifted from the baby to the woman. She smiled but her eyes promised to carry out her threat. He swallowed hard. Now he really felt nauseous, and her strong perfume wasn't the reason.

Aloud Marya continued. "Darling, why don't you lead the way." She made an extravagant motion with her arm, indicating the way off the platform. And then she kissed Carter's cheek.

Forget about the hole in the floor, he needed a tank to escape.

* * *

Hogan followed the distinct sounds of Kinch's tapping to their own radio room. Waiting for his radioman to finish his work, the colonel crossed his arms.

Finally, Kinch stopped and looked up. "Trouble?" Hogan asked.

"Not really, but last night, our bombers have delivered some presents near Nuremberg. If they hit the tracks it could take a while for Carter to reach the address."

"As long as he gets there, he can take his time," Hogan said. "Call me when he returns." Carter was reliable but still Hogan had a feeling of impending doom, he felt it in his gut. Or maybe it was the sauerkraut Klink had made him eat. He turned away intended to return to the top for some fresh air.

"Colonel?" Kinch hesitated.

"What?"

"Some of our contacts reported that the SS tried to arrest a Russian spy in Hammelburg." Kinch paused. "A woman. Apparently, she managed to slip by but now everybody is on the lookout for a woman with a baby."

"Marya," the name left Hogan's mouth like the curse it was for him. Impending doom had been the right idea. Then he paused. "But she isn't riding into our camp with her entourage, isn't she?"

"No, sir. Maybe she had different plans."

"Marya?"

"Well, sir, it's just a warning," Kinch said with an expression somewhere between a smirk and worry.

"Thank you, Sergeant, in case I ever get sleep around here again, it will be filled with nightmares about that woman."

"Better a nightmare than reality," Kinch joked. Hogan joined the laughter and let it accompany him to the ladder.

"Colonel Hogan?" Kinch called after him. "Sir, I forgot, Tiger has asked for a radio contact, this evening, eleven hundred London time."

"All right," Hogan agreed and made a mental note. If London didn't steal his night sleep, he sure could count on the Underground or Resistance. But he preferred to talk to Tiger over dealing with Marya anytime.

* * *

" **I once accidentally bought a horse,** " Carter said to the woman in the seat next to him, trying to keep up a conversation that didn't involve Marya because Marya, who was sitting to his right was making him nervous. Really nervous. And it wasn't because her baby hadn't been a baby after all but a doll. But more because she had crushed the doll's head without blinking to get her microfilm. That had been a disturbing scene. He shook his head, trying to force the memory away.

"I can imagine," the blonde woman said and laughed out loud, her long curly hair mirroring her head movement. "You know, Mister Carterheim, this is the first time I have to fly somewhere without being terrified. You see, I'm afraid of flying."

"Flying is perfectly safe. I've flown a hundred times before I was shot down."

"What?"

Carter swallowed hard and backpedaled fast. "That's pilot slang for crashing. It always helps to speak the same language as the pilots."

The woman relaxed again. She had introduced herself as Mademoiselle Cecil. "Oh, I understand. But still, you crashed once? How can you say it's safe then?" she asked her hand grabbing Carter's forearm. He winced as she squeezed his arm with her long nails. Glancing to his right he was met with Marya's bright smile.

"It was a frightful moment," Marya said in her brightest voice, grating on Carter's nerves, "but my darling came out of it as if was nothing. Therefore flying is safe even if you do crash."

"You have to be really proud of your husband," Mademoiselle Cecil said.

"I wouldn't undertake this trip without him," Marya said. In the back of his mind, Carter still heard her threats about Colonel Hogan. How one woman could so easily threaten to expose their operation was beyond his comprehension, especially because the colonel didn't seem to find a way to get even with her.

"We're approaching Paris," the steward said resulting in a scowl on Carter's face. He had wanted to prove Newkirk that he wouldn't end up in Paris and now he had ended up exactly there. But at least Marya had promised him that if he would help her to get on a plane to Paris she would help him to get back to his original destination Altdorf. It had been hard work to extract this promise from her but apparently for once she had risked too much and really needed help. And so he had become Mister Carterheim with his wife Marya while the SS were only looking for a single woman traveling with a baby.

"Since the Hindenburg disaster, I fear the landing most," Mademoiselle Cecil said. "Is Paris your final destination?"

Frowning, Carter sighed unhappily. "No, **w** **e've flown from Munich to Paris, and we're still not there.** "

The hard setting down of the plane swallowed any response Marya had to offer, and soon they left the plane.

And were awaited again by SS.

"Smile, darling," Marya said and grabbed her bag. Carter knew for a fact that the bag didn't carry the microfilm. No, Marya had hidden it somewhere on her body. Carter had refused to watch. But if the SS would search them, all would be lost. Carter swallowed hard.

* * *

Schultz came in and carefully closed the door behind him. Apparently, it was time for a head count. After making his round twice, Schultz stopped in front of Hogan. "Colonel Hogan," he stage-whispered. "Where is Carter?"

"Carter?" Hogan asked. In truth, he had hoped that Carter would be back by now but with the damage done by the bombing raid it was highly unlikely; time for an explanation or distraction.

LeBeau jumped up and offered him their game. With a sigh, Hogan picked a card. He glared at LeBeau before he sighed. "He's invisible."

"Invisible?" Schultz blinked.

"Yes," Hogan replied. "It says so on this card."

"What card?" A deep furrow appeared on Schultz' forehead.

"Oh, it's just a game we're playing, Schultzie," Newkirk commented.

"What game?" Now a suspicious glare joined the confusion etched on Schultz' face.

"We pick a card, and then we have to do what it says and -" LeBeau explained.

"Carter cannot be invisible," Schultz insisted. "That is not possible."

"But I am here," a voice said aloud. It sounded like Carter with a cough. Hogan narrowed his eyes, but nobody's mouth twitched.

"What?" Schultz stared around, bewildered.

"Schultzie, I'm right here, standing next to you."

Hogan bit his lip, trying to contain his laughter at the expression on Schultz' face. "Who ... who is talking?"

"Sergeant Carter." Even the sigh sounded convincing. "I thought you were looking for me." It had to be Newkirk. If somebody could ventriloquize, Newkirk was his prime suspect.

Schultz waved his hands in front of him.

"That tickles," the voice, Carter for the sake of the game, complained. "I thought you just wanted to count us and not abuse us. Colonel?"

"Yes, Carter?" Hogan answered and stared straight ahead, pretending to see 'Carter' standing next to Schultz. Never before he had to work so hard to keep a straight face.

"Isn't this against the Geneva conventions or something?" 'Carter' asked again.

"Sergeant Schultz," Hogan said and stood up, raising to his full height while pulling down his jacket. "Do I have to report you?"

"Report me?" Schultz asked with a trembling lip. He stared at Hogan with wide eyes. "But, but ... why?"

"For hitting one of my men."

"But he is invisible," Schultz complained, frustration in his voice. "How could I hit him? Or count him?"

"That's not a nice thing to say about somebody. I am right here," Carter's voice replied, sounding offended.

Hogan focused solely on Schultz. But before he could say anything, Schultz opened the door. "I see nothing, nothing!" Then he ran out. For once, he had spoken the truth. He had seen nothing.

The moment the door shut behind the German sergeant, the men in room collapsed in laughter. "See, mon colonel," LeBeau said as he had recovered his breath, "the game works perfectly."

Hogan frowned, crossing his arms. He could feel his headache coming back and the sticky air wasn't responsible for it. Maybe it was the knowledge that Marya was near. Or maybe it was this game.

* * *

"I have never left an airport so fast," Marya commented, her accent coloring her words. "I knew my darling Hogan would think of something but that it involved you making friends with Mademoiselle Cecile, daughter of the vice city commandant ..." she trailed off and regarded Carter out of the corner of her eyes.

Carter sat beside her in the car that had been waiting for her. Apparently, her plans had been quite far and only had been delayed by the unexpected SS on her heels. "Why don't you stay with me, Sergeant Carter." She leaned nearer suggestively.

"No, ma'am, I need to deliver a package to Altdorf," Carter replied, sitting ramrod-straight.

"Oh, you're no fun," Marya complained and returned to her side. "You are not furious like Hogan or cute like my small-one. It's Paris!" Marya made a wide motion with her arm as if she wanted to embrace the whole city. "You could be free, eating only the best food and you could meet the daughters of generals." She raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't ask for much in return; maybe just a few side jobs for me here and there."

"No, you promised if I'd help you to reach your destination safely, you would get me back to Altdorf."

Marya sighed dramatically. "Well, I tried." The car held in front of the most exclusive hotel in all of Paris. Apparently, she had no desire to lie low. No matter that she almost had been arrested. The concierge opened the car door and Marya stepped out. Carter stayed and crossed his arms.

"It's your loss!" Then she addressed her driver. "It's Altdorf for this gentleman."

Carter blew out a breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding in as the car finally drove off. There couldn't be enough space between this crazy woman and himself.

* * *

Evening came and with it another roll call. Hogan just had one problem - there was still no Carter. He took it as a good sign that there also was no Gestapo, Hochstetter or a firing squad. Not even the Underground had contacted them to issue a warning. Everything seemed fine, but Hogan couldn't shake his bad feeling.

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz stood in front of Hogan. "Please, tell me, that Sergeant Carter is visible again. I do not want to explain this to Colonel Klink."

Hogan rubbed along his chin. "Well," he started and watched how Schultz' face fell, "he may be visible again, but he isn't currently here, so -" He snapped his fingers and LeBeau dutiful hurried over and offered the cards. "Why don't you pick a card with the appropriate explanation?"

"Pick a card?" Schultz stared in confusion at the cards in LeBeau's hands.

"Our game? Surely, you remember." Maybe Hogan could see some benefits of the game after all. "If you started playing you have to finish. Besides, it tells us where Carter is right now."

"But why me?" Schultz whined.

"Because you wanted to know where Carter is," Hogan replied.

" **I don't like this game.** " Schultz closed his eyes and screwed up his face. Then he moved his index finger along the fanned out cards. "This one." He opened his eyes and LeBeau showed him the result. "Plumbing accident?" Schultz asked. "But-"

Hogan rolled his eyes and started to plan. As long as he only had to convince Schultz, he could work with this set of cards. "Yes, you see," he started, "we had a little accident while we were trying to fix the plumbing and Carter now has to hold together two pipes before the water pressure drops and Klink has no water anymore."

"What?"

"It's like this Schultz," Hogan explained and pushed Schultz out of barracks two. "You either tell Klink that he has run out of warm water or you tell him that we're all here and accounted for."

"But you are not -"

"Of course we are, Schultzie", Newkirk added. By now they had fallen into position for roll call. "We're here and Carter is accounted for. He's holding together the pipes."

Schultz still stuttered as Klink sauntered down the steps. "Report!" Colonel Klink called out.

Trembling, the German sergeant moved forward and saluted. "All present or accounted for," he said aloud. "Hopefully," he added in a whisper. But Klink didn't hear it, called out "Dismissed," and turned on his heels returning to his office, for once ignoring his prisoners.

* * *

Marya's driver had left Carter right next to the town sign. Carter squinted in the dim light until he could read it: Altdorf. Finally, he had reached his destination. "Now, I just need to find the right address," he said aloud to himself. Glancing at his watch, Carter smiled - it was still before midnight. He would be able to fulfill his orders after all.

But soon his smile vanished. None of the street names matched. In the eerily empty city, only the tavern seemed to be filled with people. Having no other choice, Carter stepped into the room. Instantly, all conversation ceased.

"Guten Tag," Carter tried in his best German. "I am looking for a street."

Icy silence greeted him and the smile on his face froze as temperature in the room dropped. "I just need to deliver some papers," Carter continued in German. "Could you please help me?"

A few heads deliberately turned away and restarted their conversation in low tones. Irritated, Carter frowned. He had been polite. Not being discouraged this easily, Carter went to the first table. "Excuse me, do you know where I can find the Stadtallee?" But the men at the table didn't even glance his way. The same thing happened again with the next two tables.

" **Is everyone so stubborn in this country?** " Carter whispered. Without thinking, he had spoken in English and that suddenly brought him some attention. A man, easily passing off as his grandfather, both in size and looks, stood behind the counter and waved him over. Relieved, Carter went over there.

"You shouldn't speak German here," the man said. "Not in this town."

Confused, Carter bit his lower lip. "But I do only speak German and English." He pulled out the envelope. "Do you know where I can find this street?"

The barman stared at the envelope. Then he started to laugh out loud. "We haven't gotten one of those for years," he said as he had calmed down again.

"What?" Carter asked frowning. His feet hurt, he was tired and weary and not in the mood to play twenty questions.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Yes," Carter replied and straightened up. "In Altdorf."

"Yes, in Altdorf in Grand Est, that's in France for you. You probably wanted to end up in any of the other four or five German Altdorfs."

Carter stared at him in shock. "But, but -" he stammered. This could not be happening. He had been careful. He had always made sure to pronounce the word perfectly. He couldn't be in the wrong town.

"Sergeant Carter?" Another female voice drifted across the room and conversation stopped again. This time it happened out of respect.

Carter turned around. As he recognized her, he smiled in relief. "Tiger." Finally, somebody who would help him.

* * *

"Tiger, it's good to hear your voice," Hogan said. He had already been waiting by the radio as right on time Tiger had called.

Carter should have been back by now. But between the silence of the radio and no other warning signs, Hogan was prepared to believe that it was only the bombing raid that was keeping him out for so long. Carter was too reliable to make a detour. Yet, he would have preferred going out to look for Carter, but in his line of work he couldn't simply push other responsibilities aside just because he was missing one of his men.

"You too, Papa Bear," she replied in her French accent. It was a balm for his worried mind.

"What can I do for you?" Hogan asked with a smile.

"Oh, you have already done everything I had wanted to ask of you."

"I have?" Hogan asked.

"Oui, I needed a demolition expert because we had the explosive but no timer and also nobody who was willing or able to build us one."

"I see. And what did I do?"

"I had wanted to ask you for your Sergeant Carter," Tiger said. "But it seems that you also possess mind-reading abilities as he stood in my tavern before I could ask."

"Carter is in France?" Hogan's eyes widened, and he stared at Kinch who sat next to him.

"Oui, Sergeant Carter is already out with DuBois finishing our mission two days ahead of schedule and therefore providing us with an alibi when the tunnel blows up."

"That's great," Hogan stammered for once speechless. He blinked, trying to follow this strange events. Somehow this sounded like Marya. "But let's back up one step. Carter is in Paris?"

"Non, he is in Altdorf, where you have sent him."

Hogan stared at Kinch, who grabbed a map and searched Altdorf in the index. Two minutes later, he had found an Altdorf in France. Hogan shook his head in astonishment. "Tiger, I'm glad that he could help you, but I don't think he is in the right Altdorf. Could you please send him back to the Altdorf near Nuremberg?"

"D'accord," Tiger replied and her voice tingled with laughter. "Still, thank you for your help."

"You're welcome, even if I haven't done anything." Hogan put down the receiver. Looking at Kinch, he chuckled. Only Carter.

* * *

Carter was in his element. Forgotten his tiredness, forgotten his hunger that hadn't been appeased by the bread Tiger had given him, forgotten the dangerous mission. Rigging up explosives, this was what he could do. "You just have to connect these two wires and set the timer and -."

"- the tunnel is a thing of the past." DuBouis agreed with a bright smile visible in the dark night. He held out his hand. "Thank you, Sergeant Carter."

"No problem. And -"

"I'll bring you to the next train station. From there you'll get a night train back to the Nuremberg. Then it's just a short ride to the Altdorf near Nuremberg."

Carter smiled. Maybe, just maybe, he would finally reach his destination after all.

* * *

"Anything new?" Hogan asked Kinch as he climbed out of the tunnel just in time for morning roll call. Another roll call they had to find a cover story for Carter's absence.

Kinch shrugged, rubbing at his tired eyes. "DuBois says his train is just arriving in Nuremberg. He won't be here before midday."

Hogan sighed deeply. The door pushed opened and Schultz rushed in. "Colonel Hogan, please tell me that you have fixed the plumbing."

"The plumbing is fixed, Schultzie," Newkirk said easily. He enjoyed his game. "But Carter is still not back."

Schultz screwed up his face as if he wanted to cry. "But Colonel Hogan, you said -"

Hogan nodded to LeBeau who brought the cards. "Let's see, what we've got." Weary and with a little dread, he picked up another card. "You picked up the plague and warrant quarantine." Hogan closed his eyes as the first men made retching sound on command. They should be coughing but that was just a small detail. Pressing his lips together, Hogan knew that he had been wrong. There was nothing beneficial about this game. Instead, it needed to be destroyed. Fast. But before he would confiscate the game, he had to cover one more roll call. As he looked back up, Schultz stared at him with wide eyes. "Do you or shall I tell the commandant the good news that we caught the plague?"

* * *

Carter's steps became lighter after he had left the train in Altdorf near Nuremberg. Not only he was finally back in Germany, where he was supposed to be, but he had also found the right street. Now he just had to find the right number and could complete his mission. In front of a small gray house, he stopped. "Number seven."

Not wanting to waste any more time, he rang the bell.

Hurried footsteps followed the shrill sound of the bell. "Yes?" The door was flung open and a young woman with a screaming baby in her arm greeted him.

"Guten Tag, my name is -" But then he stopped. His name didn't matter, only the passphrase did. He held out the dark envelope, worn with use as it had traveled across Germany and France just to be back in Germany. "With greetings from Field Marshall Heinrich."

A small sob escaped her mouth before she put a fist in front of it. Then she put a hand in her apron pocket and pulled out a small envelope. "Please return the greetings from his friend Nobody," she said in return while tears started to run down her youthful face.

They exchanged the envelopes. But before Carter left, he had to do something about the tears. "Don't cry, ma'am. I'm sure that these papers are something good."

Through her tears she offered him a bright smile, rocking her baby on her arms. "I know. These papers will get me my husband back and this little one's father. But you know, yesterday, I haven't been home." She chuckled. "I have been with my mother, but we couldn't get out of the bomb shelter after the last bombing raid. I just got in thirty minutes ago. I feared you had come by and went away again and with you my chance to get my husband back. These tears," she said and sniffled, "these tears are happy tears."

Carter offered her a calming smile. "No ma'am, this is my first attempt to deliver the papers."

Before the neighbors could become suspicious, Carter said his goodbye and went back, his heart light and his steps carefree. It had been after all a good thing that he had been a day late.

* * *

Hogan waited for Carter next to the ladder. "Welcome back," Hogan greeted his sergeant. "You look tired. Let's get upstairs. You can sleep there. It's better this way."

"Sir?" Carter said, staring uncomprehendingly at Hogan.

"Oh, we are having the plague, but I think we now can downgrade it to the stomach flu, seeing as you already feel better after just a few hours rest."

Carter nodded while Hogan guided him upstairs. "Newkirk?" Hogan called out. "Go out and tell Schultz that we only got a stomach bug."

A few minutes later, Schultz stumbled in. As he saw Carter sleeping in his bed, he sighed in relief. "Please, Colonel Hogan, please, never play this game again."

"Why not Schultzie, wasn't it much fun?" Newkirk said with a smirk, coming in behind the burly sergeant.

"No!" And with that Schultz hurried back out.

* * *

Hogan's ears were still ringing from Klink's monologue about the superiority of German medicine demonstrated in how fast they had contained the spread of a disastrous disease as he closed the door to their barracks after roll call. After a few hours sleep, Hogan could finally debrief Carter in his office. Newkirk, Kinch and LeBeau showed up in support and to express their relief that Carter was safely back.

As Carter had finished his little tale, Hogan raised his head where he had rested it on his hands. Marya.

"I'm sorry, sir," Carter apologized. "I -"

"Don't worry, Carter," Hogan interrupted him. "It's Marya, I haven't found a way to win. I don't expect you to find one either. You did good."

With a relieved smile, Carter left Hogan's quarters. LeBeau followed him, asking about the love of his life. Newkirk brought up the row, mocking Carter for his geographic skills or better lack thereof.

As Kinch wanted to follow them, Hogan stopped him.

"Sir?" Kinch asked.

"Let's agree that I'm back in charge of deciding what diversion we use, all right? No more cards."

"Yes sir," Kinch said but a small grin flickered across his face.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just that you haven't even picked one of our better ones."

Hogan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "I think of this as a blessing." He indicated with his chin to the empty envelope where the papers had been that Carter had brought back. "Are these papers really worth the trouble?"

"Yes." Kinch nodded. "London is going to be happy with it."

"That's at least something." Hogan sighed and rubbed across his forehead. "Eventually, Carter did end up in the right town after all. And once again, Marya had delayed our plans but not destroyed."

At the door Kinch hesitated. "You do know, sir, that even without Marya, Carter would have ended up in the wrong town?"

"What?"

Kinch held up a train ticket. "Found his ticket in his jacket. It's for Altdorf near Landshut in Lower Bavaria, not near Nuremberg."

Hogan laughed out loud. Then he became serious again. With a straight face, he said: "At least we haven't asked him to go to Berlin. Carter would have found a way to end up in Connecticut."

Kinch's laughter echoed in the small quarters and lured back the peanut gallery demanding an explanation. Some things never changed. And Hogan counted on it.

* * *

**End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> There are really several 'Altdorfs' in Europe (one in France, five or six in Germany and three in Switzerland); found them through Wikipedia; https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Altdorf_(disambiguation).


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